


Searching for the Change I've Lost Somehow

by orphan_account



Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: M/M, Photographs, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://raven-velith.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://raven-velith.livejournal.com/"><b>raven_velith</b></a>'s prompt <i>Photographs/Pictures/Cameras</i> in the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/covenantslash/82488.html">Weekly Meme</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searching for the Change I've Lost Somehow

**Author's Note:**

> This... was not what I started out to write. Pogue is far too vocal in my head...

There is an enormous wasp in my room and I can't get him to leave. I need to sleep, but there's a wasp and he WON'T LEAVE! Someone come rescue me?

 **Title:** Searching for the Change I've Lost Somehow  
 **Author:** [](http://echoing-dream.livejournal.com/profile)[**echoing_dream**](http://echoing-dream.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairing:** Pogue/Tyler  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Word Count:** ~3000  
 **Warnings:** None.  
 **Summary:** Written for [](http://raven-velith.livejournal.com/profile)[**raven_velith**](http://raven-velith.livejournal.com/)'s prompt _Photographs/Pictures/Cameras_ in the [Weekly Meme](http://community.livejournal.com/covenantslash/82488.html).  
 **Author's Notes:** This... was not what I started out to write. Pogue is far too vocal in my head...

When Tyler sleeps, he sprawls across every available inch of the bed. In the summer, it can get irritating, two boys and their crazy body-heat pressed too close for comfort, and Pogue is a shallow sleeper at the best of times. Somehow though, he knows it’s one of the things he’ll miss the most when he leaves for college.

There’s not a lot of space that isn’t occupied by Tyler, but Pogue perches on the corner of the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of the younger boy’s shoulders as he sleeps. His skin has turned gold in the sun, tips of his hair almost blond, finger-messed and falling into his face. Pogue runs his own fingers through Tyler’s hair, feeling where it just starts to curl, easing it smooth again as Tyler sighs in his sleep, pressing unconsciously into the touch.

Pogue’s gear is scattered around the room, spilling out of boxes and in half-sorted piles all over the floor. It looks out of place against Tyler’s effortless perfection, and Pogue closes his mind to the thought of leaving in a few days. He snags his camera from where it sits on top of a pile of CDs and makes sure the flash is off before he snaps a picture of Tyler, messy and peaceful in Pogue’s rumpled bed.

***

For the most part, they try to ignore the imminent separation. The long hot days of summer provide more than enough distraction, and the four of them spend as much time together as they can, often just lounging in the sun. They avoid reminiscing, careful not to talk about classes or plans for anything beyond the summer, and Pogue lies with his head in Tyler’s lap, committing the feeling of the fingers running through his hair to memory, so he can hang onto them when he’s hundreds of miles away.

Reid gets bored the fastest, tells them all stupid and exaggerated stories and manages not to annoy Caleb for once, the calmest of all of them for the first time in forever. He photographs the old tree-house and the massive dent that Pogue’s first bike left in the wall of one of Caleb’s outhouses when he was 16. When he gets up in Caleb’s face with the camera the older boy snatches it away and dumps the blond unceremoniously in the lake, too quick for Reid’s scrabbling hands to pull him under too. Reid comes up spluttering and then ducks back under the pier to catch Caleb’s ankles from the other side, finally upending him with an almighty splash.

Pogue and Tyler just watch from under the shade of the weeping willow, Tyler’s fingers gentle in Pogue’s hair, laughing at the older boys’ antics, but too comfortable to move.

When Pogue gets back to his dark and empty apartment that night, he finds an email with a photo attached: him and Tyler curled together between the drooping branches of the old tree, lost to the world.

***

He tries to be fair. Pogue loves all his brothers equally, and he’s careful not to steal Tyler away solely to himself too often. After all, the three of them are all going to be leaving once the summer’s done, each to different colleges in different states, and Caleb and Reid want to spend time with Tyler too.

He goes to dinner with Caleb in the week before they leave, the two of them sitting across from each other in the kitchen, drinking beer and talking about nothing in particular. It’s the same as it’s always been, as familiar as a favourite chair, and yet it feels final somehow.

They move to the snug and watch old movies, but it’s almost like they’re going through the motions, and it’s too quiet without Reid to wind Tyler up and Caleb’s quiet but loaded threats to bring them back under control.

“This isn’t working,” Caleb says eventually, pulling his knees up to his chest and turning to look at Pogue.

“No,” Pogue agrees, because there isn’t much else to say. Every second that passes feels like it’s counting down to the end of this, to the imminent destruction of what the four of them have together. They’re careful around Reid and Tyler, play up the long holidays that college affords them, the fact that Tyler only has one year left at Spenser anyway. But in truth, things are never going to be exactly the same between them.

“Are you worried?” Caleb leans back against the arm of the couch, flicking the volume on the TV down and fixing his full attention on Pogue.

“No.” Mono-syllabic answers don’t make for a good conversation, and Pogue knows this, but he’s not sure he can voice exactly what it is he’s feeling. Caleb knows him inside out, though, and he doesn’t push, just waits until the ideas fall into pictures and eventually into words. “I’m going to miss what we had. I’m going to miss having the three of you so close when I need you.”

“Hmm. I know what you mean.” And after that, there’s nothing more to say. Pogue lets his head fall back against the back of the sofa, tugs Caleb’s long legs over his lap and focuses once more on the TV.

***

On the last night before he leaves, Pogue steals Tyler away on the back of his bike. They ride for miles and miles, following roads Pogue knows like the back of his hand, Tyler tucked tight and warm against his back. The roads eventually take them out of town, out across Marblehead where the moon is bright against the rich blue of the night sky. Without the roar of the wind and the purr of the bike’s engine, the world seems suddenly quiet, and Pogue just breathes for a moment, drinking in the sight of the sky spread above him and the feel of Tyler wrapped around his back.

“Tyler,” he murmurs when he finally drags his helmet off, his voice sounding rough and far-away. The younger boy nuzzles into the back of his neck, pressing a soft kiss just behind Pogue’s ear in lieu of an answer. He’s still pressed close, and it takes a huge effort for Pogue to shift himself, to nudge him gently off the back of the bike so that Pogue himself can dismount.

They wind up standing awkwardly, Tyler’s too-bright eyes searching Pogue’s own for what feels like hours, and Pogue feels something heavy in the pit of his stomach that might just lead to something embarrassing like spilling his guts. Fortunately, Tyler knows him even better than Caleb does, and he just steps right up into Pogue’s space, keeping eye contact as he puts a cold hand on Pogue’s cheek and tugs his face down into a soul-searching kiss.

Pogue gathers him in close, breathes in Tyler’s scent and curls into the heat of him as they kiss, letting Tyler have control and just letting himself feel everything.

“Take me back home,” Tyler’s voice is soft when he pulls away, fingers tangled in Pogue’s hair as he nuzzles into Pogue’s neck, “I want to curl up with you in your bed and hide from everything. Just for tonight.”

***

Pogue’s boxes are mostly packed now, just his bedding and essentials remaining in an otherwise empty flat. The kitchen is weirdly echoey, and Pogue makes a point of flicking all the lights on and placing the two helmets in the middle of the small table. Tyler presses up against his back again, arms sliding around Pogue’s hips as he nuzzles under Pogue’s collar and into the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses there.

“Tyler,” Pogue breathes again, his voice just as scratchy as before. This time though, he knows what he’s asking, what he needs from the younger boy. Tyler seems to recognise that too, because he unwinds himself and shrugs off the heavy jacket he wears on Pogue’s bike.

“What do you need?” He asks quietly, teeth worrying at his lower lip for half a second, though his eyes are bright and determined. Pogue just stares at him for a long moment, lets his eyes wander over Tyler’s chest under his jersey, the way his jeans sit low on his hips, legs long and elegant because Tyler finally filled out enough for them to stop looking awkward.

“Pogue?” Tyler’s voice trembles just a little, and Pogue remembers that it’s rude to stare. He stalks closer, catching Tyler’s hips in his hands and walking him slowly backwards into the bedroom.

“I want pictures of you,” he purrs, bending just a little to capture Tyler’s lips for a moment, carefully steering Tyler around a pile of boxes.

“Umm… You have pictures of me. Lots of pictures.” Tyler’s fingers curl into Pogue’s hair again, trying to pull his face down long enough for a proper kiss.

“Hmm,” Pogue stops pushing once they reach the foot of his bed, hands slipping under the hem of Tyler’s jeans to stroke over the sensitive skin on Tyler’s lower back, drinking in the soft moan that Tyler doesn’t catch in time. “Want different pictures. Naked pictures.”

He can almost feel the heat of the blush that floods across Tyler’s face and down his chest. Tyler freezes for a second, eyes closed tight, and Pogue keeps his hands light and coaxing, stepping back far enough to give Tyler space to think.

“OK,” Tyler breathes, pressing forwards again and capturing Pogue’s mouth with his own, kiss deep and desperate, anchoring him. “What do you want me to do?”

***

The desk lamp casts an orange glow over the room, making shadows dance all over the place as Pogue pushes his boxes to one side and straightens out the covers on his bed. It would make more sense to flick the overhead light on, but Pogue likes the way the semi-darkness cloaks Tyler, the way the light catches on the strands of his hair and the shadows caress the divots of his hips.

Tyler’s awkward, tugging his jersey off slowly and refusing to meet Pogue’s eyes as he hovers near the end of the bed. Pogue snaps a shot as Tyler folds his jersey, biting down on his lower lip in a mixture of conversation and nerves. The camera picks up the tense set of his shoulders, the faint scratch marks on his lower back from where Pogue tried to make him come without touching his cock (it worked). Tyler turns at the sound of the camera, grins up at Pogue as he folds his arms self-consciously over his chest.

“Pogue?” he murmurs, staring into Pogue’s face for a second before a flush colours his cheeks. Slowly, his hands slide down, caressing the smooth skin of his stomach as he goes, and Pogue almost forgets to take a photo, entranced by the elegant fingers that skim the worn waistband of Tyler’s jeans.

Tyler has a mischievous little smirk on his face, still acting coy as he circles the button of his flies with one finger. It’s like an elaborate strip-tease, made elegant in a way that only Tyler is capable of. The subtle shift of his hips as he pops the first button and slides the denim a few inches further down is more erotic than all the pelvic thrusting and gyrating most strippers rely on. Pogue finds it hard to concentrate on taking pictures, wanting to taste the trail of hair peeking out above Tyler’s dark boxers, bite on the sharp angles of Tyler’s protruding hipbones.

By the time Tyler sits on the end of the bed to tug the jeans off his ankles, Pogue’s achingly hard, leaning against the cool paint of his wall and trying to find the perfect angle to capture the tilt of Tyler’s head. There’s a visible damp spot on the younger boy’s boxers, skin flushed a light pink all over as he glances up straight into the camera, leaning back on his elbows on the bed.

“You’re so beautiful.” Pogue’s not sure if he says the words loudly enough to carry across the room over the sound of his own blood in his ears. Tyler either doesn’t hear or chooses not to care, palming himself through his boxers, face down-cast again. A soft sigh escapes his mouth as he shifts further up the bed, settling himself in the pillows. With one hand, he catches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it and tugging lightly, far more gentle than Pogue ever is with him.

His eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering dark against his cheek as his other hand strokes slowly down his stomach, fingertips slipping just under the elastic. Tyler makes a soft noise as he tugs the elastic down, hips lifting off the mattress as he kicks the boxers away, neatness gone as he curls long fingers around his shaft, head falling back into the pillows.

Suddenly, the camera is intruding; this part of Tyler is too intimate for the lens to properly capture. Pogue sets it down on a box and crawls onto the bed between Tyler’s legs, wrapping his own hand over Tyler’s fingers. He’s desperate to taste, bending to press a kiss over the warm smooth skin of Tyler’s hip before lapping at the moisture beading on Tyler’s cock. Tyler’s soft, needy noise goes straight down Pogue’s spine and he takes the head of Tyler’s cock into his mouth, Tyler’s hand working feverishly under his own, sucking hard as Tyler cries out and spills hot against Pogue’s tongue.

***

“Thank you, baby,” Pogue murmurs into Tyler’s neck once Tyler’s coherent again.

“Mmm, welcome.” Tyler nuzzles back, hands working their way into Pogue’s open jeans and carefully easing his cock out. Pogue lets out a soft groan, going where Tyler pushes him until he’s sprawled out on the mattress with Tyler crawling all over him.

“Easy.” Pogue tries to catch Tyler’s hands, but the younger boy’s too focussed to let Pogue hold onto him for too long, running his thumb over the slit in Pogue’s cock and using every trick he’s learned to turn Pogue into a mess of burning skin and sensitive nerves.

“Tyler!” Pogue whines when he pulls away, hands grasping at empty air rather than the strong thighs they’d been resting on seconds before. He’s still fully dressed, T-shirt rucked up around his ribs where Tyler’s been stroking across his stomach and teasing his sensitive nipples. Seeing Tyler rooting around in the nightstand, Pogue goes to tug his shirt off, surprised when he gets shoved back down onto the mattress, hands pressed against the pillows. Tyler’s not afraid of asking for what he wants, but he’s rarely this assertive.

“Keep them on,” he whispers into Pogue’s mouth, sinking back down on top of him, knees straddled wide over Pogue’s so that his ass is raised in the air. They keep kissing even as Tyler shifts to slide a finger into his own ass, soft noises spilling between them as he works himself open, and Pogue’s cock dribbles pre-come all over his stomach, arousal burning through his veins.

His hands scrabble at Tyler’s hips as the younger boy sits up, and Pogue helps him to steady himself, slide of the condom almost too much as Tyler settles above him. He sinks down slowly, lower lip going almost white between his teeth, and Pogue breathes hard through his nose, pulling himself back from the edge.

A part of Pogue wants to go slow, to savour every second he has left with Tyler, but Tyler sets a quick and utilitarian rhythm, far too familiar with exactly how to make Pogue come. He settles instead for propping himself up in the pillows, tugging Tyler’s mouth back down to his. He comes embarrassingly quickly, fingers tangled with Tyler’s own on his cock, drinking in the soft little whimpers as Tyler shakes apart, spilling warm on the exposed skin of Pogue’s stomach.

When they can both breathe again, Pogue pulls his shirt off, using it to clean them both before he tosses it vaguely in the direction of the rest of his dirty clothes. This time, Tyler doesn’t object when Pogue pulls the rest of his clothes off, snuggling under the covers and curling up close against him.

“You chose now to find a new kink?” Pogue asks, trailing soft kisses down Tyler’s shoulders, savouring the warmth and closeness of him. Tyler just grins self-effacingly, fingers stroking lightly over Pogue’s stomach and chest.

***

They say their goodbyes over breakfast, Tyler careful not to linger too long, and Pogue trying frantically to cram the last of his stuff into boxes in the hope of distracting himself. Caleb’s already gone, and Reid only has until the weekend, but Pogue still feels like he’s leaving a huge part of him behind in the anonymous apartment.

Paul comes round with the van and helps him load up all his stuff, and Pogue tries to act as natural as possible, trading insults and playing up how disorganised he is. It’s almost enough for him to ignore the little exasperated sigh that Tyler would make if he had to help Pogue load up. Once he’s packed the last box into the back of the van, Pogue leans against the door for a moment, gathering his nerves before he drops his keys into the bottom of his duffle.

They don’t speak much as Paul pulls out onto the freeway, Pogue deliberately not watching Ipswich slide past the window, the top of Caleb’s house just visible over the trees.

***

His new room is nice enough, bigger than his old bedroom and on a noisy hall filled with fun, laughing people. He spends a few hours socialising while he unpacks, helping others with their stuff and quickly learning where’s good and where’s not around his new campus. It’s midnight by the time he gets his computer hooked up, and he flops back onto the bed exhausted.

He brings up his pictures while he waits for the internet to load, scrolling through the pictures of Ipswich Reid took on that sweltering hot day by the pond. The one of him and Tyler hits like a punch to the gut, especially when followed by the one of Tyler sprawled fast asleep on rumpled sheets.

Pogue turns to his emails quickly, scrolling through two from Caleb and a further one from Reid and finally clicking on Tyler’s name, a simple ‘hey’ in the subject line.

 _I stole your shirt,_ the message informs him, and Pogue blinks at it for a second before he notices there’s a picture attached.

Tyler’s standing in front of the mirror in his and Reid’s tiny bathroom, Pogue’s soft grey shirt a few sizes too big on him, neck sliding low to show the dark hickey Pogue left on his neck…

FIN


End file.
